Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders)

by Brandon Mull

  Copernum leaned forward. “You will confirm our titles and holdings in writing? You will document an unconditional immunity regarding any perceived injustices of the past?”

  “Indeed. In return I will require full cooperation. Not just assistance arranging my prompt coronation, but also support of my strategies going forward.”

  Copernum narrowed his eyes and nodded slightly. “As a future collaborator, might I be entitled to a preview of your intentions?”

  “It is no mystery,” Galloran said. “I will stand firmly against Felrook. More firmly than Trensicourt has ever stood.”

  Copernum glanced around the room. “Are those present meant to imply you have support from the Amar Kabal, the drinlings, and the children of Certius?”

  “Trensicourt will not stand alone against Felrook,” Galloran replied. “Time is precious, Copernum. You have tonight to confer with your cohorts. I expect an unambiguous response on the morrow. Anything less will be deemed an act of treason against your rightful king, punishable as such.”

  Copernum bowed his head in thought. “The emperor will be sorely displeased.”

  Galloran straightened in his chair. “I vow to do much more than displease him.”

  Copernum looked up. “I applaud your nerve. If I seem less than ecstatic, please understand, my reluctance does not grow out of a love for the emperor. A tenuous peace has been cultivated with Felrook for years, which has enabled us to prosper while other kingdoms crumble.”

  “What you call peace the emperor calls postponement,” Galloran said. “Aside from the Seven Vales, we are the best-defended sovereignty in all of Lyrian. He would rather wait to crush Trensicourt until he can focus all his clout on the task. That day is not far off. It will come after Kadara falls. We must take action before we become the last kingdom of men to topple.”

  Copernum folded his hands on the table. “I comprehend your terms. How shall I deliver the reply?”

  “I will station representatives at the covered bridge over Cobble Creek. Your response should arrive by noon, carried by no more than two riders. Thereafter, we will confer accordingly.”

  Copernum rose. “I expect all will be as you hope, my prince. You seem as capable and committed as your reputation warrants, undiminished by your past hardships. By way of explanation for my adversarial conduct tonight, there was concern that Felrook could have left you unbalanced. Rightful heir or not, Dolan and I had no intention of handing Trensicourt over to a madman or to a broken exile who had clearly been corrupted by the emperor. These times demand a watchful eye and a steady hand. You have more than allayed my concerns. I look forward to serving with you once we take care of the formalities.” He bowed deeply, removing his hat and pausing for a beat with his head down.

  Galloran stood, as did the others around the table. “If all proceeds as you describe, I look forward to our partnership leading Trensicourt into a brighter future.”

  Copernum nodded at the others in turn, his gaze lingering longest on Rachel. She found a wary respect in his eyes.

  Kerick led Copernum’s horse from the stall. The chancellor put on his cloak, adjusted his hood, and mounted up. He bid them farewell and departed into the rainy night.

  Rachel finally relaxed as Copernum passed out of sight. If the choice were hers, she hoped never to see him again.

  Galloran replaced his blindfold. The incessant patter of rainfall had receded into white noise during the meeting, but it gained renewed prominence in the silence. An unseen horse in one of the stalls stamped and whinnied.

  “All clear,” called a voice from above, startling Rachel. She looked up and saw Nedwin dangling from a rafter, the length of his body reducing the drop to less than eight feet. He let go and landed on the floor in a crouch.

  “I didn’t know you were up there,” Rachel said.

  “That was the idea,” Nedwin replied, crossing to Galloran. “My task was to monitor our guests. I took up my position just after the meeting began.”

  “We never agreed to your entering the stable,” Galloran said.

  “I had to hear,” Nedwin said. “I stayed quiet. You didn’t want Copernum to see me. He never saw me.”

  “I didn’t want you to see him,” Galloran responded. “That could not have been easy.”

  Nedwin forced a smile. There was no warmth in it. Rachel could understand. Copernum had held Nedwin prisoner and tortured him for years. Copernum had also harmed Nedwin’s family, stealing away his elder brother’s title by defeating him in a battle of wits. “I’ll tell you what was easy—the negotiation. Much too easy.”

  “Happy to install me as king so he can betray me later?” Galloran asked.

  “Sounded that way,” Kerick said. “After issuing all those pardons, you’ll be surrounded by enemies. The majority of your ruling class will be spying for Felrook.”

  “Agreed,” Galloran said. “Fortunately, I don’t intend to wage this war with secrets. Nor do I intend to remain in Trensicourt for long. I need Trensicourt for manpower. My faith is in the prophecy. Once I am crowned, all my effort will go into mobilizing for war.”

  “To that end you need control of the kingdom,” Nedwin said. “Quickly and without bloodshed.”

  “To leave evil men unpunished and in positions of power is a grievous cost,” Galloran said heavily. “The injustice sickens me. Yet I see no alternative. Not given our time frame and our goals.”

  “Rotten apples stay spoiled,” Nedwin said. “Copernum and his allies will hang themselves with future crimes.”

  “Let’s hope those crimes aren’t the end of us,” Bartley added.

  “The viscount has a point,” Galloran said. “We can’t be too careful over the coming weeks. Including tonight. Our location and numbers have been observed by the most dangerous man in the current government. A surprise attack is possible. Stormy or not, we should make haste to our next temporary residence.”

  Rachel sighed softly. It would be nice to stay here, warm and dry, at least for the night. But she supposed that if staying elsewhere might prevent them from being slaughtered in their sleep, she probably shouldn’t complain.

  CHAPTER 6

  DURNA

  The walled city of Durna was positioned more than two miles upslope from the coast of the Inland Sea. The many buildings near the fortified waterfront were connected to the city by a protected highway. The walls around the port rose thirty feet, the walls along the highway were perhaps half as high, and the city walls soared to more than sixty feet.

  Jason was beginning to catch on that the major cities of Lyrian had all been constructed to withstand invasions. Maldor was clearly not the first threat these kingdoms had faced.

  The battle-worn fortifications of Durna were gouged and scarred. Mismatched stonework showed where broken sections had been replaced. Construction was underway down by the port, restoring shattered battlements. Although the ancient walls loomed tall and thick, anchored to imposing towers, they hadn’t done their job. The king of Durna had surrendered to Maldor. He and his family were currently prisoners of the emperor.

  “The port gates are the only entrances,” Jasher explained. “There is one on the west side and another on the east, both heavily guarded. The only access to the city proper is to follow the highway up from the port.”

  “There have to be hidden ways through or under those walls,” Aram said, surveying the city. “Durna is too big. Nobles. Criminals. They would grow weary of taking the long route. They would demand private passages. The city has stood for too long.”

  Bat, one of the two drinlings who had accompanied them on horseback, folded his brawny arms. “You’re probably right. But we don’t know of any.” After traveling with the group for less than a week, the drinlings had already lost their accents.

  “And we can’t steal a ship unless we access the port,” added the other drinling, a solid man named Ux.

  “Can’t we just stroll in through a gate along with the crowd?” Jason asked.

  “Po
ssibly,” Jasher said. “Security will be tighter here than what you have encountered in the past.”

  “A governor called Duke Ashby oversees Durna for Maldor,” Drake explained. “He is competent and driven.”

  Ux peered at the city through a spyglass. “We’ve found security to be a serious obstacle. Of course the entrances are heavily monitored, but we’ve witnessed wandering patrols and random searches as well.”

  “We’ve been entering the city by water,” Bat said. “One at a time. Swimming. We reach the docks from the sea, looping around the huge defensive breakwaters in the small hours of the night. A two-hour swim at a brisk pace. The harbor is well guarded.”

  Jason looked out at the harbor. From their current vantage in a grove of tall, slender trees, they had an elevated view of the west side of town. The water of the Inland Sea looked gray-green under the predawn glow from the overcast sky. The port walls did not end at the water. Rather they extended out into the sea, encircling the harbor, with only a relatively narrow gap to allow vessels access.

  “Too hard of a swim for us?” Jason asked.

  “I expect,” Bat said. “Drinlings don’t tire.”

  “What about a small boat?” Farfalee wondered.

  “The harbor mouth is well illuminated,” Ux said. “The risk is great even as a lone swimmer.”

  “Then we’ll probably have to brave the gates,” Jasher said. “Which poses some problems. The whole empire is on the lookout for Lord Jason. Corinne is too regal and lovely. And we seedfolk are almost as conspicuous as you drinlings.”

  Jason glanced at the drinlings. Their golden-brown coloring was just outside the normal spectrum of human skin tones. And the coppery tint of their irises looked a little too metallic.

  “Which is why we enter Durna quietly and lie low,” Ux said. “Our kind would be detained on sight.”

  “My amar is gone,” Drake said. “I can cut my hair short and make sure my clothes cover the scar at the back of my neck. Farfalee can wear her hair long and just not roll it up over her seed.”

  “I suppose if I trim my hair shorter and don’t roll it I could pass as human,” Jasher said. He raked his fingers through his long tresses. “Let it barely touch my shoulders, subtly cover the amar without giving me away. I dislike the feel of it, but I’ve done it before.”

  “We’ll need nondescript clothing,” Farfalee mentioned.

  “These robes don’t blend?” Jason asked.

  Aram began to wheeze and grunt. Veins bulged in his thick neck. He backed away into the grove, looking for some privacy as he shrank with the veiled dawn. A couple of the horses neighed at his approach.

  Jasher looked around. “I feel too exposed here.”

  “We have operated mostly from the woods on this side of town,” Bat said. “We’ll see trouble coming long before they see us.”

  There were numerous groves on this wild part of the slope above the Inland Sea. Jason and the others had taken up position here in the night, after weaving between some of the farms and outlying settlements south of Durna.

  Aram returned, adjusting a smaller set of robes, face damp with perspiration. “You could let me go in alone and try to ferret out a secret entrance. I have experience with this sort of thing. We have plenty of money for bribes.”

  Farfalee shook her head. “I think Jason had it right from the start.” Jason tried to resist a proud grin as she continued. “We should flow into town with the morning crowd, in ones and twos. People come here to buy and trade. They come looking for work. They come for entertainment. The imperial guardsmen may be watching for Jason, but almost certainly none here have ever seen him. We dress as peasants. We look humble and hungry, and walk into the city with the rest of the unwashed masses.”

  “Bat and I could bring the swords,” Ux offered. “Jason’s and Corinne’s. Even sheathed they would draw interest. They look too fine. Unsheathed they would immediately give you away. We’ll swim them in.”

  “What about my armor?” Aram asked. “My sword?”

  “Your sword would drag us straight to the bottom,” Bat said.

  “We could use it to anchor a ship,” Ux grunted.

  “I could pose as a wealthy merchant,” Drake offered. “Well fed, well dressed, a debonair peddler of oversized weaponry.”

  Farfalee laughed derisively. “Why not portray a wealthy noble on a pilgrimage? We could supply you with riches and hire servants. Our weapons could be disguised in your armory.”

  “Don’t give me ideas,” Drake warned, eyes flashing with relish.

  Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that they were making this harder than it needed to be. “Do we have to take everything into the city?” he asked. “I mean, we’re only going there to steal a ship and leave. What if we reunited on the water?”

  Farfalee nodded pensively. “We would have to get hold of a smaller craft outside the city and rendezvous beyond the harbor mouth.”

  “There are many options,” Bat said. “Finding a small craft would not be difficult.”

  “What if Farfalee, Corinne, and one of the drinlings met us on the water?” Jasher proposed. “They could bring Aram’s gear, the torivorian swords, and the orantium. We shouldn’t need the globes for our hijacking. Success will depend on slipping away quietly.”

  “I would prefer to help cover the hijacking with my bow,” Farfalee said.

  “That would be ideal,” Jasher said. “It might not be wise. You and Corinne are too attractive. You’ll stand out more than the rest of us going into the city. With a tireless drinling on the oars, a rendezvous at sea might be a reasonable solution.”

  “We will need to know how to meet,” Farfalee said.

  “I can still swim into the city,” Ux offered. “Then I can swim out with the details. Bat could stay with you. Then the two of us can help you manage your boat.”

  Farfalee sighed. “My bow could be useful inside the city, but I admit that this alternative would reduce the overall risk.”

  “I’ll stay close to Jason,” Jasher promised. “Aram and Drake can make their way into the city separately.”

  “So no servants for me?” Drake verified. “Not even one? Maybe an older fellow? Or a kid?”

  “Maybe next time,” Jasher consoled. “For the present, we need to locate some apparel.”

  “I’ll go,” Aram offered. “When I’m small, I’m the least conspicuous of us.”

  “I’ll follow him,” Drake said. “The rest of you lie low and try to stay out of trouble.”

  * * *

  The following morning Jason trudged toward the western gate. He wore coarse, itchy trousers and a long shirt with laces over the chest. His dingy old boots had hard soles and were falling apart. Six copper drooma clinked in one pocket.

  He followed a wagon and a group of people on foot. The wagon kicked up dust, which he did not try to avoid, since he knew that whatever clung to him would improve his disguise.

  Aram had cautioned him to enter the city as part of a group. The crowd would pressure the guardsmen to hurry and be less thorough.

  Jason did his best not to glance back at Jasher, who trailed him by a few hundred yards. Jasher was unarmed except for a knife. The seedman toted several pots and pans, as if he meant to sell them. His hair had been shortened to barely reach his shoulders, and he wore a flat twilled cap.

  The port wall loomed ever closer. Uniformed guards patrolled the top, coming in and out of view among the battlements. The others on the road paid little heed to Jason.

  At last the wagon slowed and then stopped in the shadow of the open gates. A bespectacled man in a raised booth watched the proceedings with a narrow gaze, quill in hand, parchment ready. Jason counted five soldiers on the ground.

  The man in the wagon began shouting answers about his cargo to the man with the quill. A pair of guardsmen searched his wagon, looking underneath and examining the bales and barrels in the bed.

  None of the people on foot were allowed to proceed without questioning.
A line formed as the quantity of people seeking admittance outnumbered the guards. Jason felt nervous as he took his place in line. He struggled to keep his expression neutral. He avoided eye contact with the guards but tried not to deliberately look away from them either.

  The wagon was waved through, freeing up a couple of the guards. The line began to move faster. A husky man with a thick mustache and stubbly jowls confronted Jason. “Name?”

  “Lucas, son of Travis.”

  “State your business.”

  “I have to find Gulleg the barber. I have a bad tooth.”

  The guard grunted and squinted. “You’re not familiar. Where are you from?”

  “I’m up from Laga.”

  “Laga? Quite a trip.”

  Jason rubbed the side of his jaw. “A man back home tried to help but made it worse. I was told Gulleg is the best. I’ve been walking two days straight. Can’t sleep with the pain.”

  “Duration of your stay?”

  “I’m hoping Gulleg can see me today.”

  The guard harrumphed softly. “You were told right. Gulleg is good with teeth. Took care of my brother last year. Hope you brought money.”

  “Six drooma,” Jason said, jangling his pocket proudly.

  “Six?” the guard snickered. “Gulleg is no country barber. But he does have a soft spot for the downtrodden. He might find a way for you to sweat off the difference. You keep out of trouble. And keep off the streets. We don’t tolerate vagrants.”

  The hefty guard moved away, his attention shifting to a lanky man with a handcart. Jason strolled past the gate, praying that he looked less conspicuous than he felt. The exchange had gone as planned, right down to him not having quite enough money.

  Jason was not supposed to wait for Jasher. The seedman would follow as he chose. The next step was to find the Salt Sea Inn, a small establishment about ten buildings inland from the waterfront, on a road called Galley Street. The port of Durna alone had more structures and businesses than many of the towns Jason had seen in Lyrian.